


Deductive Diagnosis

by benedictedcumberbatched



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 02:41:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benedictedcumberbatched/pseuds/benedictedcumberbatched
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie Holmes is quite like his father, but his deductions reveal something that Sherlock and Molly have been hiding from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deductive Diagnosis

**Author's Note:**

> Sherlock does not belong to me, he, Watson and everyone else belong to Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course, the man himself, Sir Arthur Conon Doyle. Story based on a gif set on tumblr.

“Mum’s sick,” came the confident voice of the young boy. Sherlock looked up at him over the top of his mobile. There had been a time when Charlie was a bit younger where Sherlock found the boy’s observation skills exciting. “Stomach flu,” he replied easily, setting his phone on the arm of the chair. He could find a case later, right now he had to see where his son was going with this.

At seven years old, Charles Holmes was much like his father and a bit like his mother. Sherlock had realized just how much Charlie was like him when Sherlock had gotten up from the table while working on a case to play his violin and think. Charlie had been sitting beside him coloring quietly when the boy suddenly looked at the pictures and had pointed out a crucial piece of evidence that Sherlock had somehow missed regarding the dead man’s clothing.

“She’s only sick in the morning though,” Charlie reiterated giving Sherlock a look. Sherlock looked over as Molly came out of the bedroom and sat on a chair nearby. “Feel better?” Sherlock asked her, reaching out for her hand before brushing his lips across her knuckles. “It’s a stomach flu, on a schedule,” he said quickly to Charlie before the boy could come up with something else.

“Sherlock, we should tell him,” Molly said to her husband. Sherlock closed his eyes, withdrawing his hand from Molly’s and pressing them together neatly under his chin. Molly rolled her eyes; something’s never did change. Charlie sat up straighter, his legs dangling off the edge of the chair but not quite reaching the floor yet. “Tell me what?” he asked eagerly, but looked accusingly at his father for not saying something sooner. Molly stifled a giggle; Charlie really was like his father.

Lowering his hands to the arm rests of the chair and crossing one leg over the other, he looked toward Molly. “Fine. He’s already half figured it out anyway,” he said bored, getting to his feet and staring out the window to the street below. “Okay. Charlie…” Molly began to say, looking from her stubborn husband to her precocious seven year old.

“What?” Charlie interjected, looking from his mum to his dad’s back and back again. “You’re getting a sister,” Molly said with a small smile. They hadn’t told many people yet and while they knew Charlie would figure it out sooner or later, Sherlock was impressed his son had figured it out for the most part so soon. Molly had after all just started with the morning sickness, something she didn’t really have with Charlie. “What?!” Charlie gasped, his brown eyes going wide. “Or a brother, it’s hard to tell at this stage. We’ll know better in a few more months,” Sherlock added quickly, removing himself from the window and standing behind Molly, his hands resting on her shoulders.

Charlie stared at his parents for a moment before sliding off the chair and stomping his way to his room, what had once been John’s room in a time long gone. The door slammed behind him and Molly flinched. “Well he took that as well as could be expected,” Sherlock stated matter-of-factly. “It’s generally easier for kids to accept a sibling when they are much younger.”

Molly shook her head and gripped one of Sherlock’s hands on her shoulder. “Sherlock, shut up. Go and talk to him.” Molly got to her feet and turned around. Slipping her arms around him, she rose up on tiptoe to reach and gave him a sweet, gentle kiss. “Now.”

Sherlock groaned against her lips before sulking off after his son. Molly watched as he walked away with a slight, amused shake of her head. Rubbing a hand on her flat stomach before making sure the kitchen was devoid of any body parts so she could cook dinner, she only hoped this next one was a bit more like her.


End file.
